Peeling Peanut
by justforme95
Summary: She's peeling the skin of peanuts. Or more. Faberry. One-shot


_A.N._

_1. Glee is not my show, as much as English is not my first language. So there will be many grammar or spelling mistakes. I apologize for that in advance._

_2. This story is sort of A.U. Quinn's older than Rachel, and they both graduated from their universities and now live together. Except for that, everything else is pretty much same as the show._

_3. No offense to Chinese or those who like Chinese peanuts. I just happen to prefer my country's peanuts and I think every peanut is good for the people who grow up with it in the same country, is all. If that upsets you, I want to apologize for that too._

_And thank you for guest who point out that I should use " " this on conversation. Sorry if I confused you._

_Well, I should stop talking. Thanks for chose to read this story._

* * *

Peeling Peanut

w. justme

At this moment, I'm sitting on the navy color duo-back chair and obstinately try to read the newspaper that my brain can't concentrate or understand; and she's sitting on the floor ― one leg spread out, the other folded up ― and peeling the skin of the freshly dry-roasted peanuts. She, whose hunching back and round back of hands and also round top of feet that reminds me of a squirrel, to my surprise doesn't like nuts so she doesn't eat walnuts, pine nuts, almonds, any of them. Though she only eats what she's peeling right now ― the peanuts. And it has to be domestic ones, cause Chinese ones are so skinny that they're wrinkled and do not taste so good. How particular. Having an easygoing taste, she's just strange to me criticizing and picking Chinese peanuts or domestic ones.

But this strange yet aww like feeling doesn't last long, I soon become sulky that she's just still doing what she has been doing ― sitting there, one leg spread out, the other folded up, hunching back, peeling and peeling the stupid domestic plump little peanuts. Before I unfold a newspaper and she set up this whole peeling peanuts thing, we were talking. No, actually, arguing is more accurate. No. Better than that, solely me alone, was yelling, demanding and complaining; and she's just sitting there, cheeks twitching, eyebrows flinching every once in a while, listening to my yelling and whatever, just yeah-ed and oh-ed and ah-ed. Although it's about her, and directed to her. I terribly loathed that reaction, so I said, "Oh whatever. Just forget it," and unfold the will-not-be-able-to-be-read newspaper, but as an 'only have picky taste and doesn't have tact' person, she just take out a bag of peanuts from god-knows-where and peeling and rustling and eating them. How indifferent.

Mostly, I'm disappointed. I don't want this reaction. If she was the person who act as the way I hope at the beginning, prior one-sided arguing wouldn't even happen. If only she knew what's in my mind, and tried to meet my expectation. Very nasty one, that woman. Older than me, eating a ton of those fatty greasy peanuts, but skinny as a stick. I cannot grasp one single will to slap her. Cannot even yell freely at her. What if I just yell a little loudly, she shrink and shrink into very small and fragile thing? Like a flower petal. Or else, what if she flows away, if I exhale just a tiny winy more roughly?

Is it so? With already needled and pin-poked heart, why guilt rushes over me. Even though I didn't do anything wrong, it's weigh on my mind that I raise my voice to her for the first time, that I let go all of my angers. Should I apologize? Maybe I'm just surprised. Of that peeling peanut skin with her back facing me in firm silence. Is embossed on thin shirts, her scapula hang shadow on her back. I hate it.

Tap-tap. Tick-tock tick-tock. Sounds of the skin of peanuts falling out from their yellow kernel and the sounds of the hands of the living room clock and the kitchen clock mingling oddly. With each seconds, these sounds grow louder and louder, I suffocated. And finally, I fold the not-turned-one-page newspaper with all of my might. With this rustling sound, tap-tap and tick-tock sounds break. I smile a little as the annoying sounds broke, though the newspaper is now crumpled, then mask my face back to nonchalant and call her name. Quinn Fabray. Though she's older, and she said it's her dissatisfaction, I have no intention to treat her like my older sister. Because she's not. Quinn Fabray is just Quinn Fabray, just her.

Despite of my calling, she doesn't say a word. But the tap-tap sounds stop. What am I gonna do? Her back is still facing me. She doesn't turn around or reply. Just stop her peanut-peeling hands. Does that mean she's gonna listen? If it is, than what should I say? Although why I call her is I want to call her, but I don't know what for. And I also don't know what to say, now.

But I can't not say anything. She wants to hear from me. Anything. Plus, I have this strong feeling that telling me I should not pass this moment in silence. So at last, I rap out, "do you like peanuts that much?" childishly, really like a child. But it might be sincere. Because I mumbled it out unconsciously.

Thin voice is heard from slightly farther from her looks-like-not-make-a-sound-forever back. "Yes." Short, but enough to calm me. "Why?" Did I want to hear something like 'No, I like you more than a peanut.' Pathetic. But I'm already a pathetic person. I did not treat her as my elder, and I've fallen for a woman as a woman. And demand her to return me a same feeling. And can't wait cooly. Just picked up a newspaper that I do not usually read from somewhere and speak first because I can't help myself. And worse, steal a few quick glances to her like a person who's about to pee. I conceal all of them as well as I can. But well, you can never tell when it's comes to her.

So I ask. I'm already pathetic, what harm can done if I become more pathetic? Maybe I just gave up. There's no way she would like me too. So I will ask. Why does she like peanuts. "Why do you like peanuts?" I ask. And she say, "Well." Though that doesn't sound like, well... Well-kind-of-well. Her voice was so hollow that way. And unwavering shoulders. That says it neither meant "Well." nor "Well?" Then, what did those words mean? That well is not 'I know why I like peanuts but I will not give you the answer that easily' kind of well nor 'I, too, want to know the reason I adore peanuts so much' kind of well.

"I'm no brain like you. So tell me more easily." I mutter and she let out a small pss sound laugh to cause a breeze that scatter some of the once-neatly-piled peanut skin. They flow out of the newspaper that was placed under them. She, who stretch out her long arm to pick up them one by one and dropped them back on the newspaper, say to me.

"It's tiresome. These peanut skin. Peeling them is tiresome, too. And just a huff of breath can blow them all away. It's annoying. But I keep peeling them. Do you know why? Because inside of skin there are tasty kernel."

"So what."

"It's like people."

"What do you mean?"

"Every people have these layers. Like skin of peanuts, shells of walnuts. To protect or hide themselves. Their layers can be not so pretty that you won't like them, but if you just peel off a skin or crack a shell, then you can feel these tasty kernel, the person's true self. Of course, peeling people's skin is much harder and more difficult then peeling peanuts. But when I'm peeling those tiny red-brown nuts, I can get a sort of vicarious satisfaction."

I think I understand, though I'm not so sure. It's like, I finally see things, her, in the shiny daylight after a long time spent in the darkness. Everything's so clear and bright, but I just can't make clear outlines of them. It's hard to comprehend, that feeling. So I ask, again.

"I said I'm no brain. That means more simple words are required, thank you very much."

She just chuckled.

"It means, no I mean, _you_ too, are like them. You have these skin, too. Beneath that bossy and annoying―"

"Hey!"

"I'm not finished! It will get to the good part soon. Anyway, Underneath that bossy and annoying and _rude_ layer of yourself, there are sweet, soft, and caring side of you. The real you."

"Well, it truly gets to the good part."

"Yeah, anyway, you do have good real self and you just hide it from the world, and often to me. I know I'm the cause of that, with every insults and harsh name callings and all that, but, don't. Just don't hide your precious self because of me, or bullies like me. There are good people who will be grateful to have you grace them with your kind self. Don't take their chance to get to know you, the real you, away from them. And mostly, don't hide yourself for yourself. It's like building a wall around you. The world can't see you behind it, but you can't see the world beyond it. You are the star, Rachel. That going to shine mega-watt in the whole wide world. And you can't be the star if you're not in the wide night sky. So, don't hide. Don't put up any more skin."

"But what about the skin that are already there? These layers which I put up since highschool. I can not put them one day and just throw them off tomorrow."

"That's why I'm here."

"What do you mean?"

"So I can peel those layers. Skin. You. Peeling you. To bring out your kernel. Yellow and tasty kernel."

"But you're not the skin-free person yourself, aren't you."

"Yeah, I know I'm not like an open book, but I think I'll try. To be that person. With you, if you are willing to."

"So do I have a permission?"

"Hmm?"

"A permission to peeling you? A layer by layer, a skin by skin, a cloth by cloth?"

"Oh, yeah, well, kind of."

I raise my eyebrows. Yes, eyebrows. I've been practicing raising only one brow like her but however many times I try, I just can't do it. If I try left, then right one follows soon, and if I try my right one and... you know the rest.

"So... You will do it? With me?"

Ah, I think my lack of response is too long. She's worrying her lips now. That's new of her. Highschool Quinn never did that. She'd think it's showing weakness and Fabrays don't do that.

Then, I make up my mind.

"I think peanuts are quiet nice nuts."

"Huh?"

"Especially domestic ones."

"Yeah."

"Do you want me to peeling one for you?"

"How about two?"

Her back no more hunching, my newspaper laying somewhere, face to face with each other, I smile.

* * *

_Thank you so much for reading! Have a nice day/night you all :)_


End file.
